shakin and bakin in limbo
now i'm down to my boxers
but please look away
i have but an ounce of dignity left
and that i need for my grave

you only get one peek through the revolving doors
and i need to look my best, sundays best
better than all the rest, but under this skin
who knows what's good enough
maybe a hat

i'm lucky like the fellow in front of me
the line was cut short two men back
The rest were hacked and sacked
dripping all the way to eternities kiln
cremated to fertilize the clouds in the sky

sadly all that's left of this mans tail is the awaking
and the stagnate unanswered question of life
now sitting up and stepping down
rubbing my windows of opportunity
heading north bright eyed and bushy tailed

Walking the tight rope over quick sand
An umbrella in my hand, a snake as the handle
Fear of life far exceeds fear of death
The time is now, now I must fall
But wouldn't you know it, there's a net
Like the cartoons I shred to pieces
blowing in the wind I land in the mud
Take me to your master the worms say
Ha ha ha, ask me again on Sunday and I'll take you to a circus
Not any old circus, one with crucifictions
and thorned crown wearing clowns
tripping over their big shoes
falling in the holy water and melting away.
Sunday is the day we all have fun under the big top.

More fortitude less attitude
If we'd just stay tuned
we wouldn't rely on mood.
Instead we change frequency constantly
until we shut it off and shut life out.
Too often we live inside ourselves
Forcing all else to whither and rot.

If there was ever a time to lay aggression to rest,
Let it be now.
If there has to be a place to save,
Let it be earth.